


Credo

by boom_slap



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Dorks in Love, Emotions, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Slow Dancing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 04:03:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19243456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boom_slap/pseuds/boom_slap
Summary: It's Anathema and Newt's wedding. Aziraphale and Crowley need a soft moment for themselves.Light fluff turning into hardcore romantic feels with a side of catholicism.





	Credo

Aziraphale sat by the table full of food and alcohol and flowers, leaning back in his chair, looking at Anathema and Newton with a slight smile.

Aziraphale was an angel. He loved love. He loved people who were in love. He loved weddings.

It was a warm summer evening, the sun was already going down behind large windows of the beautiful hall that they've chosen for their reception.

The newlyweds were having a lot of fun, dancing with the kids as the band played cheesy songs from the 90'. Some couples, both young and old, swayed around them and Aziraphale noted how well Adam's parents danced. His smile widened as he marveled at how, despite all worries and everyday burdens, they were still clearly in love and able to enjoy a moment of joy.

He finished off his drink and stood up to look for more before realizing that, in fact, he probably didn't need anymore - when the reception started, Crowley convinced him to switch from wine and champagne to some fancy cocktails. "The Orgasm is really a heavenly one, angel," he hissed into his ear, then. "Sweet and milky, just like you."

And heavy, Aziraphale thought as he felt a familiar heat spread over his body. He decided against drinking another cocktail, wanting to keep the slight haze instead of drinking himself under the table and then having to sober up. Instead, he looked around for Crowley.

The demon kept to himself for most of the afternoon and Aziraphale suspected that he still wasn't too comfortable around celebrations of love. Of course, he wanted to let Crowley have his space and all, but right now, he just craved his presence.

Obviously, his devil was nowhere to be found. Tables? No. Bar? No. Dancefloor ? Christ, no, he probably wasn't drunk enough for that yet.

Finally, Aziraphale glanced at the glass doors leading to the balcony and he spotted a familiar silhouette. He headed there immediately.

"Crowley?" he breathed, slipping through the doors and feeling fresh night air hitting his face. It smelled like rain and flowers.

The demon turned his head slightly to the side, not looking at Aziraphale, just acknowledging his presence. He was leaning against the fence, smoking one of his favorite slim cigarettes, looking strangely serene. 

The angel walked over to him and leaned against the fence as well, his body twisted towards Crowley. Ohh, Aziraphale let him out of sight for forty minutes and he has already forgotten how good Crowley looked in his burgundy suit, in a white shirt and a slim, black tie, with his hair longer and pulled back into that blessed half-bun. The only thing Aziraphale slighty minded were the glasses, but well, he couldn't expect the demon to take them off while they were surrounded by humans.

"Would you spare me a cigarette, dear?" he asked in a low voice.

" 's my last one," came the answer as Crowley took a long drag. Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at him and gently took the demon's face in his hands, moving closer and looking up at him, his lips parted slightly.

Crowley understood immediately and he moved without another thought. He leaned down and his lips brushed Aziraphale's as he slowly breathed out into the angel's mouth.

They stood, unmoving, for a few seconds before Aziraphale pulled back slightly and Crowley turned his attention back to his cigarette.

"I have a spare pack in my jacket," the angel offered.

Crowley snorted, glancing at him.

"Please, I'm actually begging you, don't bring that thing around."

He meant the jacket, of course. It had a floral print.

"You chose it for me, you insufferable beast, don't act like you don't like it," there was amusement in Aziraphale's voice as he brought his hand up to Crowley's face and took off his glasses.

"Azira-..."

"Nobody's looking. _Hallelujah_ is playing, they're all probably slow-dancing right now."

The angel was right, of course. Crowley took a look through the windows and smirked. He then turned to him and pulled him closer by the waist, his fingers playing along Aziraphale's suspenders. 

"I'm not going to go soft out there, but I believe I owe you a dance at the very least," he said and felt his chest tighten as Aziraphale looked at him with a bright smile.

That smile alone would be enough for Crowley to fall to his knees. He would walk through fire- no, he- he would--he would swim through holy water just to see that smile, so open and honest after all these years of restraint.

"You old sap," Aziraphale's voice brought him back to reality.

"Shut up," he breathed, tucking the angel under his chin, closing his eyes and swaying slowly to the muted sounds of music coming from the hall. 

He could barely believe that they were able to do that. They were finally alone, free to do whatever they wanted, and Crowley knew, of course, how badly he wanted this-

What surprised him was how bad he needed this.

For 6.000 years, he was lost, not understanding what he'd done to deserve the fall, not willing to fall further down and turn into something as disgusting as Hastur, not being able to cope with fear and anger and sadness-

Now that he had Aziraphale, nothing else mattered. Not Heaven, not Hell, not the past, not the future. Aziraphale has become his religion and Crowley knew that the angel would never abandon him. He's made the decision. He's chosen Crowley. 

He felt Aziraphale's hand on the nape of his neck, warm and steady.

" _Lumen de lúmine_ ," he whispered and heard the angel's breath hitch in his throat. 

_Lumen de lúmine._

_Light of Light._


End file.
